The Poetry Marathon

POETIC ANARCHY

Yuppie zombie cults with gurus in their eyes. No thinking. No perception. No meaning.

Are you waiting for the revolution? An approved uprising? Turning the wheel of history to nothing more than mutated nightmares of the State…

I dream of a chaos ashram where yellow turbans are splashed with gasoline from burnt out cars. The sodomy is barren as we jump start the burned out pick-up truck and pick our teeth in the autonomous zone.

My border area permits allow me to roam from Bengal to the Ganges. From the Sahara to the Niger Delta. From Kali to Yuga… algae stains have ruined my tongue as it swells dripping with monsoon clouds and the ceiling fan splatters bloody slimy vomit onto the mirror, skewing my reflections!

Her DNA sits in the garbage post abortion as he licks his lizard tongue over fresh meat hissing,

WE ARE ALL MURDER.

Do we not want to stand on the grounds of abolished laws and feel priests guts squish between our toes? Do we not want to confront THE power?

The wilderness, the tribes, the hunger, the taboos, are all paradise,

even now…

Poem 9: Impulsive

I saw a giant huntsman spider
perched in the middle of the wall
just underneath my dusty windowsill.
And without thinking, I quickly gathered up
a physics textbook in my arms
and flung the entire brick of a book
across the room at the windowsill.
Unfortunately, as a teenager
I was scrolling through Instagram on my phone
so I watched my five hundred dollar iPhone 7
tag along with my textbook for the ride
and fly in a perfect arc at the windowsill.
My textbook obliterated the spider in one strike
leaving a blob of waxy yellowed guts
and all parts left of the spider corpse
but my phone went flying outside
in the same continuous arc
and I realize that I forgot to close the window
much earlier this morning
which was how the spider probably got inside
and down beneath the windowsill.

The Non-Wastrel Queen

 

a true legend with spoken words
the world’s oldest reigning monarch
rarely gives interviews
personal feelings not know
her beliefs fundamental importance
well known for her dry witticism
habits were parodied by media
know not to be a teetotaler
wants to see her kingdom live forever
hypocrisy lessened and faded
the future British world is hers
truth her glory, riches, and honors
reign acquired but never regretted

“Nine – A Plea to the Nine Muses”

 

Nine times I’ve watched the ancient, sacred hill,
each time with more determination than
before. I knew that if I would only stand
there long enough, I’d see you come along.
But mornings passed, then afternoons, and still,
though I would praise your names, and praise again,
nothing stood upon that hill but grass, and
that’s not why I was there. So, was I wrong?

If I watch and believe, please, will you come
and speak to me in words of love, of lust,
of myth, of what you will? I’ve lost the sight
of you and without that, I’m stricken dumb.

Calliope, Euterpe, Erato, must
all of my muses bathe in mortal light?

LOSING LOVE

love is more thicker than forget
BY E. E. CUMMINGS

love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky

E.E. Cummings, “[love is more thicker than forget]” from Complete Poems 1904-1962, edited by George J. Firmage. Copyright 1926, 1954, 1991 by the Trustees for the E.E. Cummings Trust. Copyright © 1985 by George James Firmage. Reprinted with the permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation.

I will never forget
I will always recall
Nightmares are wet
As I fall and I fail

My dreams are moonly
My love can’t unbe
You were my only
When you sailed out to sea

I thought I would win
When we felt so alive
Love so easy to begin
My love, I forgive

Sun’s no longer sunly
And surely I’ll die
You were my one and only
My diamond in the sky

Diane Morinich

Owl Awareness Day

At night we fly

alone in silence

across the cool,

dark and earthy plants.

We seek the ones

we need for love

or food or sacred

intercession, god’s

question always “Why,”

are women stronger

and no one responds.

We are wiser birds,

or perhaps the ones to

bear the most and then

say less and succeed

at humble tasks the most.

Brave old bird, or sly, your

feathered heads like snow,

in grace and priestly dress.

 

3:09 Excalibur

Justification of war

And magick

Begins in folklore

And ends up tragic

In our modern lives.

 

To be but mortal with a greater yearning

And use one’s strength for peace is burning

Deep within the hearts of all humankind

And ways and means of action is churning

Until in unity we all do find

That indeed we are of one peaceful mind.

Lies

Twisted words weave webs of deceit,

a trap for the unsuspecting flies of the public.

When I think of the world in terms of predators and prey,

I have to ask myself which would I prefer to be.

The Spider?

The Fly?

Or the Web.

Fire Up Your Soul

Be a nurse her family persuaded. The
Future looks secure in a medical career, girl
There’s no money in art or writing or in
Acting. She followed their dream; in the
Unsettled struggle that came, her glass
Was empty more than full in the end. The truth is
Finding what fills you up and fires up your
Soul. Jesus did that and she calls him her friend.

by Kathleen J Kidder 8/5/2017 at 3:56 PM

 

The original line of inspiration for this poem is “The girl in the glass is your friend.” By Pat Conigliaro

Sisyphus

Laboriously, the ascent began anew.
Trudging along after another disappointment,
another slip
trip, miss
collapse

One day, maybe
it won’t be raining and Sisyphus
can try again,
try
and not do

The insanity is building now
you can see it on his face, in the
bulge
of those
beady eyes

Sweating, slipping, and sliding
back down again, another night gone.
The sun
rises
As do you.

Impressive, ironically, a story
of perseverance and fervor,
just
one
problem

Sysiphus was the name of a spider.